


Fleeting and Gone

by wonderlandiscrumbling



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Arkham Asylum, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of self-harm, end of season two, near season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderlandiscrumbling/pseuds/wonderlandiscrumbling
Summary: Oswald can't handle being alone in his estate, not with ghosts of painful memories haunting every hall. Arkham isn't an ideal place of solace but at least there he can visit with Ed.





	Fleeting and Gone

Oswald leans back against the brick exterior of Arkham asylum, his heart pounds against his chest as he tightly grips the flask in his hand. He’s only here to visit, he isn’t a patient any longer, but he fears that the bricks will open up and swallow him whole. Sweat rolls down his forehead and pools in his eyebrows, he thinks of the secret rooms, he thinks of the injections, the burning in his skull and the awful sickness he felt all thanks to Dr. Strange. He uncaps the flask, puts it to his lips and swallows, he winces at the bittersweet burn of the whiskey as it goes down his throat burning. He can feel it pool in his gut, the warmth fighting against the typical cold of Gotham city winters.

‘Happy holidays, Oswald.’ He thinks to himself, he laughs, and the sound is bitter and sad.

He takes another swig from the flask; wishes he’d brought the bottle with him. 

“Ready?” Butch asks, the large man idles before him patiently waiting.

Oswald silently nods, he hands him the now empty flask and moves away from the wall heading towards the guarded entrance of a place so very close to being a literal hell.

He’s not the least bit surprised by the lack of precaution in Arkham; no checks for weapons before entering, no asking of an ID, they barely give him a single glance. They don’t request him to fill out a visitor form, he can hear patients screaming bloody murder down the hall followed by the angered shouts of under paid and over worked guards. He remembers the guards, the feeling of their clubs colliding with the back of his knees when they felt he was resisting treatment. He shakes the memories when the woman behind the bulletproof glass instructs him to wait in the visitors’ room.

He follows two guards to a medium sized room that he’s only seen a time or two when he’d tried to get his lawyer to spring him out of this place. 

His anxiety settles back into his chest and stomach when the guards close and lock the door behind them, they stand blocking the door filling him with this paranoid fear that he won’t be able to get out now that he’s back in.

‘You’re being ridiculous.’ He scolds himself as he seats himself at the metal table.

He fidgets with his fingers, picks at his yellowed fingernails and the chipping black paint on them. He needs to repaint them, needs to hide nails discolored from chain smoking and years of malnutrition. 

‘Healthy’

His father had looked at him and considered him healthy, he laughs thinking about it, even then he’d felt like telling him that was far from the truth. He buries his face in his hands, his fingers curl in black fringes of hair as tears sting at his eyes. He can’t stop thinking about it. They’re dead. They’re dead and now he’s left with an empty mansion where his father once lived, where his mother also once lived a very long time ago. 

The screech of an alarm gains his full attention, he looks up to see two guards leading Ed into the room. A smile forms on his face as he sees the other man; his black and white striped uniform is two sizes too big for his small frame, his glasses are nearly falling off the tip of his nose, and his hair is curling and damp. When Ed sees Oswald his eyes light up, there’s a relief that he’s happy to see him here.

“Pen-Oswald, I didn’t….I didn’t expect to see you again.” He says, a truthful admission as he takes a seat across from him.

In truth he had debated for the past week on if he should visit Ed or not. He’d heard through Barbara and others that Ed had gotten himself arrested, he’d wanted to come and see him right away, but it hadn’t felt right. 

“I’ve been wanting to come and see you, but….” He trails off wondering if he should lay out the truth or just something polite and evasive. He forces a smile before speaking again, “I’ve been preoccupied.” He says his voice breaking halfway through his words.

Ed’s lips curl into a concerned frown his brow furrowing. Oswald has the urge to reach across the table and push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose before they fall to the table, he folds his hands in his lap to keep from doing so.

“I’m sorry.” Ed says suddenly.

Now Oswald looks at him confused. “For what?”

“I….I blamed you, when Gordon found out about me I had just-I had assumed that you’d been the one to rat me out. Just the way that you had been acting after you got out of this place you were, you were so odd, and I worried that you’d turn me in. I’m sorry.”

He leans back in his seat, Ed’s staring down at the table looking like a guilt-ridden child. This wasn’t expected, he hadn’t even heard about this before. Until recently nobody had really seen or heard from him, it had been a nice breakaway from reality, if things had gone better then he never would have returned.

“I forgive you.”

“Really?”

He sighs leaning forward, he places his hands on the table. “To be quite honest I didn’t even know about that until right now when you told me.” 

“I figured Gordon would have contacted you.”

“No, he didn’t know where I was.”

“Where were you?” Ed asks curiously.

“That…That is actually part of the reason why I’m here to see you.” 

He feels that odd heaviness in his chest again, there’s this fear that if he talks about it, if he thinks about it then he’s going to have a breakdown again. He curls his fingers against the palm of his hand, nails biting against his soft skin.

“Oswald, are you okay?” There’s concern in his voice as he asks the question.

He shakes his head in response to the question, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. “I…My…I found out that my mom lied to me about my dad. He was alive that entire time, she just….I think she just wanted to protect me, maybe even protect him so she never told the truth. I met him not long after I left your apartment.”

Ed remains silent, Oswald looks up to see him staring at him. “I moved in with him…..He had a wife.” He presses his nails against his skin until it breaks, he winces at the stinging pain and thinks of the scars on his thighs from his school days. “Gold digging bitch she….She killed him Ed. She killed him and I held him while he died.” Tears fall from his eyes, he smacks his hand against the table, Ed flinches at the sound.

“I could have done something if I hadn’t, if I hadn’t been experimented on like a rat in this shit hole. I should have known she was, I….I was happy for five seconds I was finally happy and now I’m just in a mansion and I’m alone again. I have Butch and Barbara but who am I kidding they aren’t exactly splendid company.” He says choking out a laugh.

Ed reaches across the table taking hold of his hand, he pulls at his fingers forcing his nails out of his palm. Oswald sighs as he feels his friend stroke along the crescent shaped cuts on his skin, he looks up at him through bleary eyes and feels ridiculous. He’d thought, had hoped the crying fits and breakdowns were done. He remembers begging Ed on multiple occasions to just kill him, sobbing grossly in his bed for two weeks, Ed’s seen him at his worst.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” 

It’s a simple sentiment, typically he wouldn’t see it as meaning much, but he knows it’s a lot coming from Ed. 

“Thank you.”

“Oswald, I’m sorry that I turned you away that day. I should have at least let you clean up or offered to find you a place to stay.”

He reaches across the table pushing Ed’s glasses back up the bridge of his nose, for a short moment he allows himself to brush his fingers against his cheek before pulling away. “I’m not angry about that, I would have thrown myself out if I’m being perfectly honest.”

Oswald laughs shaking his head, “I was a fucking zombie, I felt like I was watching myself, but I wasn’t really present. Sometimes I was but other times I wasn’t.” He falls silent and for a moment there’s a sense of contentment as he watches Ed idly stroke his fingers along his hand. “My dad knew about me, about me being a murderer. He didn’t even care, if anything he was proud of me.” He sighs and there’s a weight of guilt that fills him. He doesn’t know why he feels guilty, being accepted for his flaws, for his biggest sins should be a relieving thing. “Do you think my mom would have accepted me, if I’d just told her?”

“She loved you, she would have accepted you. I never met her, but I can’t imagine she would have changed how she felt about you.”

It’s the answer he wants, he worries it isn’t the truth, but he wants to cling to this. He takes hold of Ed’s hand and brings it up to his lips pressing a kiss against the back of it. “Thank you.” 

Ed’s watching him, cheeks flushed, he feels some semblance of happiness in this moment that is fleeting. He realizes in that moment there’s a chance to find happiness.


End file.
